He heard a smack and then felt a kiss pressed noisily to his own cheek. Dixie argued half-heartedly, but they were on their way in only moments. Joel relaxed and let himself be led, without bothering to count steps or otherwise try to note his surroundings. The place was a confusing maze of corridors and turns, but he didn’t care, not with Dixie holding on to him.
“You must be hungry,” he said after a bit.
“I didn’t even think about food until Mom mentioned it just now,” Dixie replied, “but now that the subject has come up, I’m starving.”
“That makes two of us. How do you feel about a burger at the local drive-thru? You’re driving so I’m buying.”
“Sounds good, but would you mind if we picked up Clark first? He’s never been with anyone but family this long.”
“I’d prefer it, frankly. He’s a great kid, Dixie. I was delighted to spend time with him at your mom’s. That’s quite a playroom they’ve set up for him.”
Dixie burst out laughing. “So you made it to the playroom, did you?”
“Are you kidding? We ate our lunch in there, all three of us at that little table with those itty-bitty chairs. It’s surprisingly difficult to eat when your knees keep getting in the way. Clark laughed his head off.” Dixie did, too, and the sound of her amusement thrilled Joel all the way to his toes.
“Now, that I’d have paid to see,” she chortled.
“Repeat performance anytime you like,” he promised, and he meant it wholeheartedly. “Free of charge.” Unless, of course, she preferred to pay with her heart.
Chapter Six
“You’re crying.”
Silence had descended on Dixie’s car the moment they’d left the parking lot, bringing with it emotions that she had not expected. She supposed it was the letdown after the crisis. Now that the worst was past, she had time to acknowledge the fears that had driven her for all those hours.
Taking her eyes off the road just long enough to glance at Joel, Dixie smiled through her tears. He lounged in the passenger seat as if he did not have a worry in the world. She would not have been nearly so sanguine. To sit in the dark while someone else literally held your life in her hands, which is what happened every time you got into a car that you weren’t driving yourself, seemed like a very frightening experience to her. But then he turned out to be more aware than she’d imagined. She had been so careful to keep silent, not to sob or even sniff.
“How did you know?”
“The way you’re breathing.”
“You can actually hear my breath?”
“Every moment I’m with you.”
She shook her head and wiped at the tear streaks on her face. “You never cease to amaze me, Joel.”
“I can tell you’re crying. I can’t tell why.”
Dixie sighed. “I don’t know, really. It’s just…the accident wouldn’t have happened if Dad hadn’t been there to help me.” Her voice spun out to a tiny, grimacing squeal.
Joel shifted in his seat. “Your father’s accident is not your fault, Dixie. He said it himself. He pushed himself too far and got too tired to hold up the chain saw. Besides, he’s going to be fine.”
“Mark wasn’t,” she whispered.
Joel sat back, tilting his head. “Is that what this is about? You’re remembering the other accident? That was unspeakably tragic, but it wasn’t any more your fault than this was.”
“But it was!” she blurted, suddenly sobbing. “It was.”
Joel braced a hand on the dashboard, calmly ordering, “Pull over, babe. Find a place and pull over.”
She did, turning into a strip mall on the edge of town. Catching her breath, she scrubbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what came over me.”
“Listen to me,” he said, searching for and finding her hand. “It’s been a long, emotionally trying day, and it’s brought up bad memories from the past. I know exactly what that’s like. You’re due a good cry, if you want. But you are not responsible, not for Sam’s accident and not for Mark’s.”
But she was. Suddenly, it seemed paramount that someone know it, that Joel know it.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “I am responsible for the accident that killed my husband.”
Joel shook his head. “That can’t be, honey. You obviously feel responsible, but—”
“He wanted a boat,” she interrupted, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. “A new boat, and he deserved it. Mark never spent money on himself, not like most people, but he wanted that boat.” She gulped and confessed, “I wanted a new dining-room set. So when he showed me the cost of a new boat, I insisted that he test a used one instead.”
“Dixie,” Joel said softly, “that doesn’t make it your fault.”
“I even found the boat and made the appointment,” she went on in a quavering voice. “The owner was a salvager who restores used boats on the side. I should have known it was dangerous.”
“Dixie.”
“He made us sign a waiver, Joel! Before he would even let us take the boat out, he made us sign a release. I should have known something would go wrong.”
Joel’s hand touched the top of her head and slid down to her nape. “If you should have known, then Mark should have known, too,” he said reasonably. “Did he say anything about it?”
“No, but—”
“Well, then, there you are. What exactly happened, anyway?”
She shook her head. “Something went wrong with the steering. It was an inboard motor, but that’s all I know about boats. By the time we realized we had a problem, it was too late. We hit a concrete pylon for a lake pier that they were refurbishing.”
“How fast?” Joel asked. She blinked, trying to think, and he shook her gently with the hand at her nape. “How fast was the boat going when it hit the pylon, Dixie?”
“I—I don’t know. Fast.”
“And were you behind the wheel?”
“No.”
“No,” he echoed. “Mark was at the wheel of an unfamiliar boat, and it was going fast. If it had been going slower, you might have both survived, so why isn’t it Mark’s fault?”
“B-because…” She’d never thought of it that way, and she wasn’t going to. “You can’t blame him!”
“You’re right,” Joel said. “I can’t blame him any more than I can blame you.”
Dixie thought about that for a long time because he’d given her a whole new perspective. But letting go of the guilt was hard because it meant letting go of so much else—like her reason for staying stuck in her grief and not getting on with her life.
“You don’t understand,” she mumbled.
Joel massaged the nape of her neck. “Oh, baby, do I ever understand. Want to know how many of my company died while I was in Iraq? Ninety. Two from my own squad. The day we hit the IED, four from our company gave their lives. Not their eyes, their lives. Honey, you can’t tell me anything about survivor’s guilt. Been there. Done that.”
“Oh, Joel.”
“Know how I beat it? When I was going through rehab, a chaplain told me that by questioning my own survival, I was proclaiming my lack of faith in my Lord and Savior. He pretty much told me the same thing earlier when I was mad at God for losing my eyesight. I just didn’t get it then.”
“B-but you seem so accepting now.”
“Now. At the time, I was anything but. It was a year before I could accept the blindness, Dixie, the most miserable year of my life. Only after I went to my knees and gave my anger to God did it all start to make sense and come right.”
Dixie stared at him, openmouthed. The dream. The dream had changed when she’d confessed her anger to God. It went from the tree falling on the swing set with Clark on it, to Joel being there and rescuing Clark. Did that mean that things were starting to “come right” in her life? Except…wait. Joel hadn’t rescued Clark so much as shown her that he was all right. Then, in the last dream, Joel had led Clark away. She pictured the scene, the two of them walking down the street, Joel
’s hand on Clark’s shoulder, and suddenly it was if a lightning bolt hit her. Joel hadn’t been leading Clark away; Clark had been guiding him! A boy guiding his blind father.
But what about Mark? He was Clark’s father. How could she allow him to be replaced?
“I’m so confused.”
Joel dropped his hand and released his seat belt. Sliding his arm across her shoulders, he leaned close and brought his head to hers, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Give it time, sweetheart. Like I said, the first year was a mess. The second year, well, that was a revelation, and now…now every day feels like an adventure.”
The second year. Dixie caught her breath. “You were already blind when Mark died.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe I never knew.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know at first. Couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else feeling as sorry for me as I felt for myself.”
She smiled and brushed a palm across his cheek. “You still can’t tolerate pity.”
He chuckled. “At least I’m still not wallowing in self-pity.”
“For the record,” she told him softly, “I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you, Joel. You’ve handled your situation so much better than I’ve handled mine.”
“Not the same thing,” he told her. “Your kind of loss is more devastating. After your husband died, I asked my mom specifically not to tell you about my blindness, partly because I just didn’t want you burdened with that knowledge. And partly because of my pride,” he confessed.
“You have a right to your pride, Joel.”
“I’d like to think so, but mostly I just didn’t want you to think of me as less than a whole man. You see, Dix, my mom isn’t the only one who believes that you’re the right woman for me.”
Warmth spread through her, filling all the cold recesses in her heart, and yet…
“Joel, I wish I could say that I believe it, too.”
He slid back into his seat. “So do I, because until you do, it’s hopeless.”
She heard the sadness and disappointment beneath his warm, even tone, and it pierced her heart. “I—I just don’t know how,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I understand. I really do.” He fumbled for and found the safety belt. Pulling it across himself, he located the clasp and fastened it. “Clark’s waiting,” he said with a smile, “and I’ve gone right past hungry to don’t-get-too-close-I-might-take-a-bite-out-of-you.”
She laughed, grateful for the teasing as it lightened the mood.
“Let’s get on the road, then.”
After quickly scrubbing her hands over her face, she put the car in motion again. Ten minutes later, she lowered a sleepy Clark into his safety seat and buckled him in.
“Joe!” he said happily.
Joel reached back, and Clark caught his hand.
“Hey, pal! Did you have fun?”
Clark nodded and babbled something about trucks and cheese sandwiches. Ten minutes after that, he had dropped off to sleep. He continued to sleep, even when Dixie pulled into the drive-thru and ordered cheeseburgers for herself and Joel. He slept while Joel wolfed down his burger and had a chocolate milkshake for dessert. He slumbered on through the mundane conversation and the light laughter and the drive to Bess’s house.
“Good night, Dixie,” Joel said against the background of Clark’s contented, velvety breaths. “I just want you to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
He gripped her hand. “I’m going to pray for you.”
“Thank you, Joel.”
“No, not like that. I’ve been praying for your welfare since Mark died. This is purely selfish.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I once told you that I believe God gave me to you in a dream. Well, maybe that’s not enough, so now I intend to ask God to give you to me. Only seems fair.”
Dixie smiled tremulously. That was perhaps the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. What could she possibly say to something like that? Lifting her hand, she laid it against his cheek, feeling the prickle of his beard. Clark, she thought fondly, would be entranced. She couldn’t help being a bit entranced herself.
He caught her hand, turned his face and left a kiss in her palm before getting out of the car. “Good night, sweetheart,” he said through the open door. “I’d ask you to dream of me, but you already have.”
Stunned, Dixie burbled with laughter that seemed just on the verge of tears as she watched him stroll up the path to his mother’s front door. He couldn’t see the colorful azaleas and peonies that flanked the paved walkway or the dark green door at the top of the steps of the small frame house, but she had no doubt that he was aware of them. None at all. Or that he meant exactly what he’d said. He intended to ask God for her.
In some ways that terrified her. In other ways, she was oddly glad about it. On the one hand, how could she be “given” to anyone if she refused to first let go of Mark? On the other, what was she really holding on to? A memory? A ghost? Guilt? What exactly, she wondered, was she so afraid of?
“Father, forgive me,” she whispered, feeling a glow begin in her heart, “for my lack of faith. Show me how to believe in Your abundant blessings, not just in my own loss. I want to believe that You can give me love in a dream. But only if it’s true.”
Dixie couldn’t stop thinking about all that Joel had said. She went over in her mind his every word and action since she’d first laid eyes on him that day in the park, when neither of them had known the other’s identity. She prayed to fully understand that dream and any significance it might have, as well as all that had happened since.
As she lay in her solitary bed that night, her mind moved ceaselessly but gently from point to point, like the graceful, ephemeral dance of a jellyfish through still water, never slowing or rushing but constantly wafting toward some unknown destination. She rose the next morning feeling strangely rested, despite precious little sleep, and went about her day with smooth efficiency, caring for Clark and the house and the bills, talking to her parents on the phone and arranging for a friend of her dad’s to pick up and deliver Sam’s truck back to the Wallace place.
After Sam was home from the hospital and settled comfortably in his recliner in front of the TV, she drove over with Clark so the two could spend a little time together while she chatted with her mother in the kitchen. Vonnie was full of information.
“The pastor came by the hospital this morning.”
“Not surprised.”
“He was very relieved to hear that we were just waiting for discharge instructions so we could head home. He apologized and apologized for not being around when the accident happened.”
“That’s nice.”
“Speaking of nice, that nice young doctor referred Sam to a wound-care specialist. Just a precaution, but helpful, I think.”
“Yes, I can see how it would be.”
“It could have been much worse, but it’s not just your run-of-the-mill injury. We had to fill three prescriptions on our way home. Let’s see, antibiotic, pain relief. I think the third is for inflammation or something.”
Dixie nodded. Tears pricked her eyes as the terror rushed back over her. “I thought Dad was going to bleed to death!”
Vonnie flew around the counter and folded Dixie in her arms. “Oh, sweetie. After all you’ve been through, I don’t know how you managed. Your father and I talked about it last night. He said you were clearly shaken, but you kept your cool and did all the right things. He’s so proud of you, Dixie. We both are. You saved his life, do you know that? The big idiot left his cell phone in the truck! Said he didn’t want to take a chance on losing or breaking it and didn’t figure he’d be able to hear it over the sound of the saw, anyway.” She cupped Dixie’s face in her hands. “If you hadn’t been there at that moment…You saved him, Dixie. You saved him.”
Dixie sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m so glad.” She looked her mother
in the face then. “It did bring everything with Mark back. I relived the other accident again, but even as it all flashed by me, I knew that I had to help Dad—and that I couldn’t have helped Mark. I guess, in the back of my mind, I always thought that I should have been able to do something that day.”
Wordlessly, Vonnie hugged Dixie close. Mother and daughter clung to each other for a long time. Finally, they broke apart, both dabbing at their eyes. Vonnie picked up with her chatter again in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.
“Bess called. I told her there wasn’t a thing she could do here, so she’s delayed her return for another day.”
“Problems?” Dixie asked, sniffing back the last of her tears.
“One of the older grandchildren was running a slight temperature last night. Doesn’t seem to be anything serious.”
Vonnie went on, talking about this and that. Not one word was said about Joel.
It didn’t feel right, like all those times after Mark’s death when everyone around Dixie had chatted so brightly on so many subjects except the one consuming all the air in the room. She had reacted with anger and tears back then, accusing them of wanting to forget Mark and then sobbing when they did talk about him. Her grief had been fresh and sharp at the time, but lately it had begun to feel old and tired.
Dixie shook her head. All her angst about letting go of Mark seemed rather foolish suddenly. No one really had a choice about that. Death severed all physical ties. Distance and time gradually pulled the emotional link to a fine thread. It started out filling one’s heart to the point of bursting, painfully large and seemingly all-powerful. But life went on, and time passed, distance grew, pain faded, grief became bearable.
She’d fought so hard to hold on to all of that, thinking that she was holding on to Mark, but Mark lived in heaven. He was happy there. She believed it with all her heart and soul. How could she begrudge him that? Even had she the ability to do so, how could she ask him to give up that for a life here with her and Clark? Even a good life and all its attendant joys could not compare with the ecstasy of heaven.
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